


I'll Lead You Back Home

by abbyli



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arranged Marriage, Davos and Shireen friendship, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Married Gendrya, Married Jonsa, Queen Shireen, Shireen Lives, Shireen POV, hopeful, multiple POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-12 01:01:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11726247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbyli/pseuds/abbyli
Summary: Shireen's alarmed when she learns in the wake of her father's death that he had once had an alliance set up with Balon Greyjoy that she would marry Theon Greyjoy once she became of age. The alliance was killed when Theon disappeared and then the war began. Now that her father is gone and the war has been over for five  years, she carries through on the plan and marries Theon for the alliance with the Iron Islands and to stop the unwanted proposals that are coming in.What surprises her even  more is that she begins to fall in love with Theon along the way.





	I'll Lead You Back Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sassyclassy_ass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyclassy_ass/gifts).



> This is a new project I have been working on for the last two weeks. I plan on this being four to five parts, and three love stories told through Shireen's POV. Her own, Gendrya, and Jonsa.

 

.

.

Stannis Baratheon had taken ill in the previous weeks. An illness that would take his life tonight before the sun rose.

“Princess?”

Shireen nearly leaps out of her seat at the sudden appearance of Ser Davos. She reaches up and he takes her hands, pulling her into his arms. “How much longer?” she asks softly.

“An hour. Maybe two. He won’t make it to the sunrise.”

Shireen’s heart twists with an aching grief. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Her father...her father was not the type of person to die this way. She always thought if she lost him early, he would die in battle or live to be old and grey and die in his bed. He deserved to live. Not die....like this.

“The maester is still with him but he’s asking for you.”

Shireen nods. She twists her long loose braid around her shoulder, yanking on the end and feeling the prickles of pain at her scalp. The pain reminded her of where she was still.

She lets go of Davos’ hand and pushes on the heavy door, walking into her father’s chamber and shutting that door behind her. The maester looks up from where he had been inspecting her father’s wounds and bows his head. “Leave us, please.”

The maester nods and quickly exits. The door opens and falls closed with a heavy clang, loud and sudden enough for Shireen to flinch.

She finally tears her eyes from the floor to the bed where her father lays. He’s wrapped in furs despite the high temperature in the room, his lips coated with blood that he had coughed up. She swallows the rising bile in her throat and walks over to the bed, taking the hand he offers her.

“My pretty girl,” he whispers.

Shireen bites back a sob. _“Father.”_

“You need to be strong now, do you hear me? You have so much to do. You will be a good queen.”

She shakes her head, her hair falling away from her damaged cheek. Stannis’ eyes widen just slightly, the expression on his face remaining the same. She brushes the hair back over her face, gazing back at her father. “I cannot be queen.”

“Yes you can,” Stannis assures her. “The people care about you. They love you. They will respect you but do heed Davos’ advice. Let your people advise you. Don’t turn your back and make the same mistake I did.”

“But you didn’t,” Shireen replies.

“Aye,” Stannis’ gaze grows dark, gazing into a memory that was all too familiar. “I nearly did.” He looks back at her. “My girl, I need to tell you something. Something that I don’t believe you are going to like hearing.”

“What is it?”

He licks his lips, searching for the words. “You are eight and ten now. You will soon celebrate your birth year. You will be queen in the new day. You need...you need to align yourself with the other lands.”

“But we’re already aligned with the North...”

“I know that. Not just the North. The other kingdoms. The Iron Islands.”

Shireen raises a brow. “The Iron Islands? Father, are you thinking clearly?”

“I am thinking clearer than I have in years.” Stannis looks at her. “Shireen...I met with Balon Greyjoy before his death. I needed his help if I was going to claim the Iron Throne. He wanted something in return. An alliance. A connection to my kingdom if I were to win.”

She sits back, her hand gently pulling away from her father’s. Dread rises in her chest. “What did you offer him?”

“A marriage,” Stannis says. To his benefit he looks quite ashamed but Shireen cannot help the leap of anger. “Between you and his son Theon.”

She turns away.

When she finally finds her voice, it quavers. “You...were going to marry me off? To the son of _Balon Greyjoy?”_

She knew what had happened to Theon at the hands of the bastard Bolton. Her heart had hurt for what he had gone through. She doubted she could wish that kind of fate on her greatest enemy. She had never met Theon. Never had the inclination too. Most of her duties had laid here in Storm’s End, or to the North where her cousin Gendry lived with his wife Arya Stark. She had never set foot in the Iron Islands and didn’t want too now.

“He had good armies. I needed them for my quest. But then his son disappeared and I ended the alliance. There was no need,” Stannis explains.

Shireen’s lip curls. “Well obviously. You bent the knee to the North and got the support you needed.”

“Shireen –“ Her father reaches for her hand again. She resists the urge to pull away. “Please listen to me.” She looks away, her eyes finding an interesting crack in the wall. “ _Shireen.”_

Her stubbornness wilts away after a moment. Her father’s voice is so weak.

“After my death, you will inherit my duties. You will be Lady of Storm’s End and you will have my advisors and my lords at your side. But you will also inherit my enemies.”

“Enemies?” Shireen repeats. She already knows what her father means but now...now it’s a reality.

Stannis nods. “Be gentle to your people. But be the iron that your enemies will fear.” His eyes flit to her mangled cheek and her other hand reaches up to cover it. “Let them see you. Really see you.”

“A disfigured princess?” Shireen says bitterly.

“ _No.”_ Her father’s voice has suddenly gained so much strength that she looks back to his face in surprise. “A queen of grace, strength, and kindness.”

-;

Shireen watches as pink rays of sun begin to dance along the sky, finding the corner of her mouth turning up in a smile. “Papa, look! It’s a new day.” She turns back to the bed, her one arm still extended towards the window. “Papa?”

Stannis is still, eyes wide and unseeing.

Tears start to burn her eyes and her hands tremble, reaching for her father’s. _“Papa...”_

The tears slip down her cheeks, falling onto her dress. Her hands twine through her father’s and she brings them to her lips. “May you find peace in the world that awaits you. May you see Mother and my brothers again and hold them in your arms as you walk into eternity.” She blinks away a stray tear. “I love you, Papa.”

She stays there for a long time, not even hearing the door open. Davos’ hands gently pull her away from her father, easing her to his chest as she begins to sob. The maesters surround her father, pulling the sheets up over his head and tucking his hands away.

It’s then when Davos leads her from the room that it really sinks in. Her father is gone. He’s gone forever and she will never see him again.

Shireen lightly pulls away from Davos, standing straight and brushing her hand over her cheeks. “Are you all right?”

She nods. “I think so.” She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip when it begins to tremble. “I will be.”

“Your majesty?”

She turns towards the voice and one of her father’s lord stands there, already wrapped in a cloak of black mourning. He bows low and for just a moment, Shireen wonders why. He had never done that before.

And then it dawns on her.

She’s the queen of the Stormlands now.

“Lord Byron,” she states, finding her voice.

“Your grace, we will be preparing the castle for the three days. Ravens have already been sent. You will have to tell the people that their king is dead.”

“Is that really necessary?” Davos asks.

“It is Ser,’’ Byron replies. “Shireen is now queen. She has to address our people.”

“It’s all right,” Shireen says. “Go ahead, Lord Byron.”

Byron bows again before leaving and Shireen fights a flare of annoyance. She grabs Davos’ hand, suddenly feeling much more vulnerable. “What do I do now?”

Davos’ smile is tender, his eyes soft. “You will go out and face your people. And then you will lead them. And if you will allow me this –“ he lets go of her hand and steps backwards, bowing low. “My queen.”

Her sob is masked by laughter. “Arise, Ser Davos.” When she meets his eyes again, her heart quickens. “Do you think I will be a good queen?”

“I would bet my life on it,” Davos tells her. And then, _then_ is when Shireen finds the faith that she needs.

She stands straight, shoulders back. “All right. Let’s go.”

-;

The three days of black mourning follow after her address to the people, but it’s on the fourth day when she receives her first marriage proposal from one of her lords.

Shireen had always avoided the throne room since she and her father had moved back to Storm’s End from Dragonstone. Her mother’s suicide had been the driving force for leaving Dragonstone and finding a new home.

She sat on the steps before her father’s throne now, knees pulled up to her chest as she stared at a crack in the floor, lost in thought. A knock comes at the heavy wooden doors and they open before she can bid them entrance.

A man stands there, hand on the hilt of his sword. He is what some ladies would say is ‘attractive’ but Shireen doesn’t find herself the least bit enthralled by his appearance. She watches, fighting a smirk as the lord flips his hair out of his eyes and flashes her a smile. “My queen,” he says, bowing low.

“Lord Maryn,” she says. “Rise and state your business.”

Maryn stands straight. “My queen, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage.”

Shireen really didn’t meant to laugh in the poor man’s face. “I, uh, I beg your pardon?”

“We will join our houses. I will be a good consort, my queen. We can rule together, side by side.” He hitches on a look that Shireen supposes is supposed to be vulnerable. “If you will have me. I can offer you my lands, the devotion of my people. My lands hold great wealth and resources. My people –“

“Lord Maryn,” Shireen’s voice cuts him off mid sentence and he flinches when she suddenly stands before him, her damaged cheek right in his line of sight. “Look at my face.” She tips his chin towards her when he does not. “This face is the face you will be looking at for the next fifty years. This face will be the face you will hold as you bed me on our wedding night. Do you understand that?”

Maryn nods his head, still looking everywhere but at her.

“My father told me about this. He told me that men would want me for my titles, my kingdom, my lands. He said that it was doubtful a man would want me for me because of my face.” She gives him a sad smile. “You may go. My answer is no.”

Maryn bows again, his face flushing red. “Apologies, my queen.”

Shireen doesn’t say anything else, watching him as he turns his back and walks away, not looking back at her for an instance. As the door clangs shut, she looks to the throne.

The chair stands strong and firm, just like her father was.

He never used it. He never sat upon that throne and proclaimed himself the king of men. Not since the war.

The night he had nearly burned her alive, her father had told her that was the night he stopped being a king.

But now she was queen.

With a small sigh, Shireen walks down off the steps and exits the room. She will have the throne taken out tomorrow.

-;

The marriage proposals continue to flood in. Shireen turns them all down. The revelation of her brief betrothal to Theon Greyjoy still sits in the back of her mind. Her father had no reason to tell her that. It wasn’t the worst thing he had ever done and well...

When the letter comes from Yara Greyjoy, Shireen knows what she has to do.

“ _To the new Queen of the Stormlands,_

_First, may I offer my deepest sympathies for your father’s passing. Stannis Baratheon was a fine man and a fine king. He will be dearly missed. Secondly, I want to offer my congratulations on your crown, despite the tragedy that has made you come to it. To celebrate your coronation, I would like to invite you to the visit the Iron Islands and take part in a feast in your honor. After then, we could take over possible alliances. I look forward to your raven with your answer._

_Sincerely, YG.”_

Davos looks up from the scroll. “She signed with her initials.”

Shireen shrugs. “So does Jon.”

“She’s offering an alliance,” Davos adds.

“I heard.” Shireen looks back down at the book in front of her. “I could do it. Offer to marry her brother to strengthen the alliance and give her claim here while I would have it there.”

Davos raises a brow. “Are you serious?”

“I have never been more,” Shireen says, her voice soft. “The people though, they would not accept an Iron born as my king consort.”

“I’ve heard stories about Theon Greyjoy.” Davos cuts his eyes to her and then back to the letter. “He betrayed the Starks and took Winterfell. Then he got himself sold to the Boltons like a mule.”

Shireen nods. “And suffered for three years in the bastard Bolton’s hands before saving Queen Sansa.”

“He’s his sister’s Hand.” Davos leans back in his chair. “The Iron Islands are small but they are powerful.”

“They do not have the best reputation. It took the Dragon Queen threatening them and Balon’s murder to get them to stop conquering neighboring islands around them. What would the people think of their new queen marrying the eunuch prince of the Islands?”

Davos turns to her, eyes hard. “Think this over before you decide, Shireen,” he tells her, voice firm. “Because once you go forward, you won’t be able to go back.”

“I am not going to rush into anything, Ser Davos,” she says with a soft smile. “I’m not the trusting type. Father taught me that.”

A shadow crosses the older man’s face and she taps his scruffy chin with the tip of her finger.

“Don’t worry.”

-;

She sends a raven to Yara and sails for the Iron Islands two days later.

When her ship arrives on the docks of the Iron Islands, she’s met with the queen herself.

Yara captures her hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Was your trip safe?”

“It was, thank you.”

A horse waits her and they ride back to the castle in compatible silence. Shireen finds herself grateful that the woman does not try to engage her in conversation. When they get to Pyke, Shireen finds herself gaping at the odd towers that rise from sea and into the sky, connected only by a thin bridge. She makes a mental note never to wander in the castle during her visit.

Inside, she’s given a meal of fish, biscuits and to her surprise, strawberries. “I thought you couldn’t grow much here?” she asks Yara.

“We had them shipped out special when I received your raven. They got here right before you did.”

Shireen laughs, wincing at the gurgle of hunger in her stomach. “Do you mind?” she asks, gesturing to the food and Yara shakes her head.

“Not at all. Eat up.”

As she eats, Yara tells her of the plans for the next three days. She will be sailing back to the Stormlands at the end of the week so the three days are jammed with activities with the grand feast being on the evening of the third day.

“I want you to see everything. Since the war ended, the Islands are thriving and I thought it was only fair that you get to see that,” Yara explains.

Shireen nods, taking a sip of mead. “Understood. Uh, before we do any of that, I would like to speak with you about a pressing matter.”

“Of course.”

“It’s about your brother.”

Yara tilts her head. “Theon? What’s he done?”

“He’s done nothing. Um...” she looks around the dining hall and even though they are alone, Shireen feels very exposed. “Do you have someplace we can speak in private, your grace?”

-;

Once the study door is closed, Yara turns to her, folding her arms in front of her chest as she waits for the explanation that quickly falls out of Shireen’s mouth. As she talks, the other queen’s eyes get bigger and bigger and Shireen’s sure she’s going to be called a liar and thrown right into the sea.

To her surprise, Yara falls into her seat in defeat. “So that’s what Father meant...”

Now it’s Shireen’s turn to gape. “You knew about this?”

“I thought it was the ramblings of a drunken fool. I was so dismayed when Father talked about that. It was right after the bastard Bolton had sent us...a piece of him in a box.” Shireen’s stomach rolls. Yara looks up at her. “That’s why you’re here, right? Because you want to marry my brother to solidify our alliance?”

Shame pillows through her. “Yes.”

Yara stands up then so they are eye to eye. “He cannot give you any heirs. I do not understand why...”

“I’ve been receiving many marriage proposals since my father’s passing. Some have been rather threatening. And another thought I had was if I had a husband...I could protect my kingdom better. You see my father had to take back the lands after the war. He very nearly let me die at the hands of the Red woman because he believed in an idiotic prophecy and –“

She’s babbling now and Yara’s hand quickly snaps out to wrap around her shoulder. “All right, all right. Take a deep breath.”

Shireen sucks in a deep breath through her nose. She reaches a hand out and steals the chair that Yara had just occupied. “I am here asking to marry your brother like he is a parcel to be given away. What is the matter with me?”

Yara waves away her words. “Don’t do that to yourself.” She swallows. “Father was the one that made the deal with your father.”

“My father almost burned me at the stake and your father left your brother to die at the hands of House Bolton. This –“ Shireen waves a hand. “Should not be even an idea!”

When she looks back at Yara, she finds a look on the other woman’s face that is quite gentle.

“You have my permission to ask Theon what he thinks,” she says and Shireen blinks in surprise. “If he says no, we can continue our alliance another way. A marriage would be the best bond between the Islands and the Stormlands but it doesn’t have to be.” Shireen is on the verge of gaping and Yara laughs. “What the last five years have taught us, especially getting our home back from our uncle, is that tyranny does not work. Ruling over others with the threat of fear, _does not work.”_

Shireen nods, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I just...I don’t know what to do.”

“Everything you said right there, Shireen, convinces me you are going to be a magnificent ruler. With or without a husband at your side,” Yara replies. She holds out her hand. “And I am honored to call you queen.”

-;

She finds Theon down on the beach with a dozen other men, working on a damaged ship. The other men immediately stand straight when they glimpse her, dropping whatever items they had had in their hands.

“Return to your work, sers,” she says. “I am not your queen.”

Theon raises a brow. He was the only one that did not immediately stand at attention when she appeared, the tools that he holds still gripped tightly in his hands. “Your majesty.”

“Lord Theon. May I speak with you?”

If Theon is surprised he doesn’t show it. He drops his tools into the hand of another man and follows her. They move silently down the beach until they are out of earshot of the other men. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to greet you when you docked. Yara told me to carry on helping the others with repairs on the ship.”

“That’s fine,” Shireen says. She bites her lip. “I wanted to speak with your sister alone before I saw you. I have something to discuss with you and it’s quite important.”

Theon’s silent, waiting. And then...

“I’ve come to offer a marriage alliance.”

“To who?”

“To you. With me.”

-;

“Theon, I am not going to force you to do this,” Yara says, looking up at her pacing brother. “It is your decision entirely but this was something that was set up by our father and Shireen’s.”

“So father gave me away to the Starks and then he was going to give me away to the Baratheons?” Theon asks, his voice cracking. Shireen’s heart tears. “I was just an item to him, wasn’t I?” He rounds on Yara. “And you! You’re going to agree, aren’t you? Hiding behind that fake ‘it’s your decision’ bollocks –“

“That’s not it –“ Yara tries but Shireen interrupts.

“I offered the marriage, Theon. Yara didn’t know about this until I told her. Father never told me about this until minutes before he died.”

“What good would come of it?” Theon asks. “I cannot give you children. I am known as a cockless coward across the seven kingdoms –“

“That’s not true,” Yara tells him, her voice dropping. “You stopped our uncle.”

“I stood on a cliff and hoped like hell I could still be a good shot,” he growls. “And I was.”

Euron Greyjoy had perished the night of the great battle with the wight walkers. Two arrows, one through the heart and one through the head, sent from Theon on top of a neighboring cliff moments after Euron had killed Cersei Lannister and was about to cut Yara’s throat.

It had taken months upon months for life to return to normal after the battle, after the _war_ had ended. Tyrion Lannister had destroyed the Iron Throne and the Dragon Queen had died with her dragons to help finish the Night King. Many marriages had taken place in the ashes to help rebuild the individual kingdoms. Margaery Tyrell had wed Tyrion Lannister for equal rule over Casterly Rock, Jon Snow had married Sansa Stark to keep his control over the North. Her own father had considered remarrying after her mother’s suicide but eventually dropped the idea.

“I am a coward. I cannot be a consort. I can barely be your Hand!” he adds with a finger pointed at his sister.

Shireen’s voice is quiet. “Sansa told me what you did for her. Helping her flee Bolton house and killing the girl that tried to stop you. You saved the queen in the North and you saved the Queen of the Iron Islands. That counts as a good man in my book.”

Theon flushes, turning away. “Your people will not accept me.”

“They will.”

-;

A small knock comes at her guest room just as Shireen is ready to blow her candle out. “Enter.”

The door opens and closes, and Theon enters, blinking in the sudden light of the candle. “Your grace, may I speak with you?”

“Of course, milord.” Shireen sits up, pulling her hair around her cheek. “What can I do for you?”

Theon glances at his toes, seemingly searching for the proper words to say. She waits patiently, watching him.

“My sister informed me that you are getting marriage proposals from houses outside of the seven kingdoms. People that you do not even know and you are being threatened by them. befo

Shireen nods. “Yes.”

“Would a marriage with me get those houses to leave you alone?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know. I would gather it would,” she adds. “Marriages usually do stop more proposals.” She meets Theon’s eyes at last and the corner of her mouth quirks up in a teasing smile.

At last, there is a smile from him. It’s so brief and flickers on his face but it’s there.

“If you would like, we can arrange it so you can visit the Stormlands. Get to know the people before you make up your mind.”

“I would like that. Your people though...they’re not going to like me.”

“Your people are not too fond of me either,” Shireen replies softly. “The disfigured queen, here on their territory.” Theon scoffs. He tilts his head to the side and to her surprise, reaches over and brushes the hair away from her battered cheek. She notices he is missing the tip of his pinky finger.

She doesn’t flinch when his hand touches her face, her eyes widening with wonder. “Apologies.”

“Not at all.”

It’s then she knows that the decision has been made.

-;

“I beg your pardon, my queen, but are you out of your mind? He’s an Iron born!”

Shireen fixes Lord Coss with a cool gaze. “I am aware of that, Lord Coss.”

“Then why?” the older man asks her. “I understand the alliance but a marriage? The Iron Islands are filled with savages! They have conquered islands, killed villagers, and taken what they pleased.”

“That was under Balon Greyjoy’s rule,” Shireen says. She leans across the table, noticing the way Lord Coss tilts his head so he does not have to look at her disfigured cheek. “They are a thriving kingdom now.”

Lord Coss scoffs. “You really want to align yourself with Yara Greyjoy? She’s just like her father. And you really want to marry a cockless coward? What will he be able to do for you?” A dark glint crosses his eyes. “What kind of bedding would you have?”

Davos, who is sitting to her right, lets out a snarl. Shireen holds out a hand, resting it on top of his shortened fingers. She turns her eyes back to Lord Coss, who seems to immediately realize the words that came out of his mouth.

“Lord Coss, if you ever say anything like that to me again, I will strip you of your title and banish you from the Storm’s End. Do you understand?”

The chatter coming from the rest of the lords suddenly dies down and the great hall is eerily silent. Lord Coss nods, his eyes not meeting hers. “Apologies, your grace.”

Davos’ fights a smile of pride. Shireen sits down, not pulling her eyes away from Lord Coss’s head. “Does anyone else have anything they would like to say?”

One man raises his hand, ready with a question about the upcoming winter. They didn’t have many cold nights here at Storm’s End, being so far south. Her alliance with Jon had led to a trade of resources. Food that they grew here in the Stormlands that was sent North while they received armor and weapons made by the blacksmiths that lived North (she could recognize her cousin’s work anywhere).  

The meeting breaks as the day darkens outside the windows and candles are being lit. The rest of the lords wait until she is out of the room, Davos following her. As soon as she is around a corner, she nearly falls to the floor in a heap. “I cannot believe I talked to Lord Coss like that.”

“You were much more gracious than I was going to be,” Davos laughs and Shireen begins to chuckle herself.

She looks up into the kind eyes of the man who had been more of a father to her than her own was for the past eight years. “Do you think I am making a mistake, Davos?”

“I cannot answer that, your grace,” Davos says softly. “This is your decision. And if you trust your heart with this, then it is the right decision to make. You are not a fool, Shireen. You have never been. You are just...kind.”

Her face flushes and she reaches for his hand. “Do you feel like reading for a while?”

It takes Davos a second and then he smiles. “More about the dragons?”

“Obviously,” she replies with a laugh.

-;

**Author's Note:**

> Do leave reviews. I do want to keep going on this, I have a lot planned. Thanks guys.


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